


Just One Day to Survive (We are the Lucky Ones)

by LittleRedRuby



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Other, Substance Abuse, Suicide, Triggers, Underage Substance Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRedRuby/pseuds/LittleRedRuby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don’t know who the rightful owner of this skull is anymore." -Isabel Elliott, Clarke Sondermann, and Toluwanimi Obiwole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Day to Survive (We are the Lucky Ones)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I was watching this (/watch?v=_GgKcjhQeJA) and it brought tears to my eyes, it also inspired me to write this. I also want to say that If you think the subject has been handled prooly please let me know; I dont want to offend anyone on this and if you feel uncomfortable I will take it down without objections. I handled it with much care and I really hope you guys enjoy it. This is a colection of headcanons that I had and the discovery of new ones while I wrote.

"I don’t know who the rightful owner of this skull is anymore." -Isabel Elliott, Clarke Sondermann, and Toluwanimi Obiwole.

You love your mom.

You love the woman who kissed your knees while putting on a band aid that time when you scraped them running in the backyard chasing the dog; the woman who worked as a nurse on the hospital and spent three nights of the week sleeping there.

“I’m just taking care of people love; you will see me in the blink of an eye”

And you understood that, because your mom was brave, and beautiful, and hardworking, and gave you everything she could, and you made sure to hug her extra tight when she had to work there. Baby sitters came and went, but you where the happiest when your mom was home.

When you were thirteen she came home with a man on a lab coat, he was losing hair, and he was tall, and had electric blue eyes full of wonder that they scared you. You hugged your mom and kissed her on the cheek.

“This is my friend Aldous love; he is having dinner with us”

You nod and try to smile, he crouches in front of you putting his hands on his knees and smiling.

You don’t trust him.

“You must be Elizabeth…”

“Just Beth is fine” You interrupt him. Elizabeth is your mom, not you.

“Alright then, you must be Beth, your mom has told me a lot of things about you”

“All good I hope” you say.

With that you leave him in the foyer and join your mom on the kitchen, helping her with the groceries and starting to set the table of dinner.

*-*-*-*-*-*

She leaves you with him on the living room to wash the dishes, he talks to you but you try to ignore him. You have felt numb about people for a while now, your group of friends consist of two or three people if you stretch it, and even then they are usually only lab partners who text you about homework.

You are fine with that, you don’t care.

You give him short answers to his long questions, and that night while your mom kisses your forehead before going to sleep, she puts a bottle of pills on your nightstand with a glass of water. You follow instructions.

Taking one and going to sleep.

*-*-*-*-*-*

You love languages.

You love the ability to communicate with different dialects all over the world.

You dream with the idea of traveling the world and getting lost in the crowds while trying to understand what they are saying. You love airports too.

You also love to insult assholes (who talk in hushed tones when you walk by) in German and Spanish; because they can’t understand you but they know you don’t like them just by the tone of your voice.

You go home after track and field practice and swallow two pills.

It’s your senior year. And you are not establishing friendships that are supposed to “last forever”

*-*-*-*-*-*

Even though you are eighteen your mom still kisses your forehead before work that morning, with the promise to be home for dinner.

She never comes back.

The funeral is small and grim, colleagues from her work stop by, and you see Aldous in the far corner of the room, looking lost but calm.

He disappears while you approach the coffin, hearing her coworkers saying how they saved the life of the man who crashed her car while coming back from work; a drunk driver.

You put your hand on the glass and trace her features, your hand trembles and for the first time in a while, you cry.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Your father calls you when you are twentythree and getting your field training in the police force, asking “if you need anything”

That night you swallow two pills with vodka.

*-*-*-*-*-*

The force makes you go to therapy sessions.

You are grateful of getting all of your bullshit out in the open.

The more troubled you are, the more pills they give you.

*-*-*-*-*-*

There are nights when the high is so beautifully crafted that it makes you cry, the explosion of colors behind your eyelids and the soft’s sensations of the covers of your bed make you fill invincible, you float away and come back down, the up and away.

You don’t feel guilty when you cry.

You remember that last kiss your mother gave you, the last time you saw her laugh, and the last time she waved at you from the driveway with a dashing smile on her face.

The morning is a cruel reminder that your life is not what you want it to be.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Katja gets in contact with you when you are leaving the station.

She talks broken English and you tell her to calm down in German.

She lets out a broken sob that turns into a laugh that quickly turns into a cough fit that leaves you breathless.

You reduce your dose that night, to two pills instead of three a swallow them with water instead of dry.

*-*-*-*-*-*

You meet Alison in person and you both meet Cosima on a Skype call.

“This is so sick dude”

You smile at her, while Alison covers her face and stands up to prepare herself a drink.

You take one pill that night, realizing that if you are going to keep them safe, you need to have a clear head.

*-*-*-*-*-*

You discover things in June.

You discover a religious cult; Katja gave you the run down a few weeks ago about the European clones and now you have a few faces on a box you keep on a hidden drawer in the closet that you are sure Paul won’t find.

You memorize the faces. You don’t tell anything about it to Alison and Cosima.

And leave your house to go to work.

*-*-*-*-*-*

 

That day you kill Maggie Chen chasing a robber red-handed, Art helps you cover it up.

You never forget faces. And you acknowledge for the first time the monster you have become.

That’s why when you get home and you see a torn paper on the trash while taking it out with a strange symbol on it, you take it out and leave the trash forgotten in the kitchen floor.

You research it for a while on your laptop and find pictures of Neolitionism and the face of the whole movement.

Doctor Aldous Leekie.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Two weeks later you are standing on a platform at the train station.

You can’t take it anymore.

And god, Alison is going to hate you after you do this; but you can’t stand it anymore, Paul was always a liar and deep down you knew, but never accepted it.  

You wonder if Donnie is the same, as you keep pacing back and forth.

You need to protect them, you need to keep them safe, Katja is supposed to get there in a few days and how is she going to do without you there? You keep thinking about Alison and Cosima, and Katja, and all the other clones that could be roaming the whole fucking world and you realize you can’t keep playing god anymore. There is so much pressure and the pills are not working and you are just so fucking  _tired_. You put down you bag and step out of your shoes.

You don’t have the will to clean the tear tracks from your face anymore.

You turn around and see her, for a second you think is a trick of your imagination, in the other one you think it might be Katja, then you remember that that its not her usual hairstyle.

Then you realize is  _another one_.

And you realize to cant protect this many people, you never could, and you where delusional in believing it in the first place.

You turn your head and walk to the oncoming train.

The last thing you hear is another version of you screaming.


End file.
